


Turn His Gaze

by WildAndFreeHearts



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Circle of Magi, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Mages and Templars, Nugs, Past Relationship(s), Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/pseuds/WildAndFreeHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair has never seen Evander Amell quite so tense in the entire time he’s known him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn His Gaze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



Alistair has never seen Evander Amell quite so tense in the entire time he’s known him – which, admittedly isn’t actually that long, now that’s he thinks about it – but still, he’s seen the man throw himself into fights against ogres about three times his size and not even blink. But somehow standing in a room filled with a bunch of blandly calm looking Templars somehow manages to unnerve him. It’s not something Alistair believes anyone less keenly aware of their leader as he is would likely notice, but he finds it hard to miss the way Evander keeps moving restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other or the way his hands keep twitching, before he unobtrusively settles the jittering by gripping his staff tighter or clenching them at his sides. Even as Evander continues discussing the young Dwarven girl, Dagna, with First Enchanter Irving, he maintains a wary eye on Knight Commander Greagoir and his men as they mill about. Alistair began to wonder if offering to escort his friend here by himself while the others stayed at the Spoiled Princess had been a good idea after all, in hindsight.

“Evan, is everything alright? You seem a tad uneasy.”

The reaction Evander has to that question coming from a slowly advancing Templar is not unlike the jerk Alistair has seen come from a man Evander himself had shot through the back with a bolt of lightning. His spine did a strange whip-cracking motion, before turning to the nearing man, eyes wide. “I... uh… Cullen. You seem… better?” It came out as a trepidatious question, his eyes darting to Irving, who had crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes, frowning in open disapproval at the Templar.

Alistair hadn’t been sure who it was or why the person felt at ease enough with Evander to shorten his name epithet, but as the man removed his helmet he recognized the man that had been trapped in the magical barrier when they had been here the first time.

~*~*~

_“Cullen!” The sudden horror that had quailed in Evander’s voice had made Alistair’s stomach lurch and set his teeth on edge. “Don’t you recognize me?! Don’t you know who I am?!”_

_The Templar was on his knees in obvious pain, in a wheedling mockery of prayer. “Oh, Maker. I remember you only too well. How far must the demons have delved into my mind to recreate such a flawless image of you? Digging through my brain, to temp me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have… using my shame against me. Not only a man, but a mage as well.” His words were frantic, his face pale and drawn. He seemed a moment from going absolutely mad, surrounded by death and evil, a single flickering light in slowly enclosing darkness, soon to be extinguished. “Please, just kill me. Kill me. I will not break, I’m not like the others. I will die first. You’ll have to kill me. I will stand no more jokes. I cannot bear to see his face for one more instant.”_

_“Cullen. It’s me, I’m here. Maker, look at me. Please, Cullen.” Evander leaned forward, placing his hands on the shimmering barrier, his words dismayed and an only just audible whisper._

_Something black and ugly rolled in Alistair’s guts. Something he could not think about. Would not think about. Not here, not now. Least of all now, with the dreadful scenes of the Circle Tower unfolding before him in all their chilling terror, with more mounting gore with each step they took. And not when he could see that look Evander was making reflected in the smooth surface of the magic surrounding the Templar in makeshift safety._

_“No! I will not submit! Be gone, demon!” He cried, moving swiftly from his knees to stand intimidatingly above Evander’s shorter build. His show or resolve slowly crumpled. “You’re… you’re still here. But that’s always worked before! But… you can’t be… Evander, are you actually here?” He slowly raised his own hand to touch the side of the barrier. “But why? Why would you come back to this place? Why now? You left to become a Warden. You… I thought you had died at Ostagar.”_

_“No. And I came back because… this was my home.” The simple words ‘You are my home.’ were not spoken, but Alistair could still hear them hanging in the air, their power a humming crackle even louder than the magic pouring from the shining walls between the two men._

_A disapproving tut pulled Alistair’s attention from them to Wynne. “Stop this, this instant. Think about where you are. Think about who you are. You are a Templar and a mage.” The clipped disdain in her voice was a thick, wet blanket over the warmth that had been steadily building in the room. Just as quickly the two of them had fallen into each other, they separated._

_Their flushes of shame were mirror images, as the Templar’s eyes gained a distancing look. “This was my home as well.” He said, a boiling anger suddenly lacing his voice, his gaze flicking over Evander’s shoulder as if noticing Alistair, Wynne and Leliana for the first time. “But look what they’ve done too it. They all deserve to die, every last one - Uldred most of all. And to think! I once thought we Templars were too hard on all you mages! Only mages could have had the power to do something like this!” He waved his arms in a sweeping motion at all the horror around them. “Some may have tried to fight back, but even they are lost now. They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming from that place… oh, Maker! He’s doing things to them all. Horrible things. I can feel it.” His voice was slowly taking on the note of insanity it had held before. “You have to end them all now, before it’s too late! To ensure that this is over, to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you’ll have to kill every single person up there! You have to! You can’t tell a maleficarum by sight and the possibility one might influence you to let them free is too high!” The hated rolling off of him was overwhelming._

_“But some of them may yet have held out, like you have. I… I won’t kill an innocent, Cullen.” Pain, anger, regret were saturated in his words, but strength of conviction in showed in the stubborn clench of his jaw, the wide, challenging set of his stance._

_The Templar gave hard sigh, his head tilting back, eyes closed. “Maker turn His gaze on you. Hopefully your compassionate heart will not doom us all.” He was the very definition of resignation._

~*~*~

Alistair remembered that the man’s misplaced fervor hadn’t abated even after they had finished saving the Circle. Evander’s anguish had been obvious as he had discredited him and again as they had left, loading into the boat and leaving the Tower for the opposite shore, on that same night. He had shocked himself by following Evander into his tent at camp that night and holding him while sobs wracked his best friend’s body. If he had shed a few tears as well by the time the sun had risen, Evander was kind enough not to say anything. They hadn't hardly slept apart at all since that night, although they had tried to be more covert about it after that. He had steadfastly not asked if doing so had changed their relationship somehow.

He was not going to let this man make Evander feel the way he had that night again. Not ever, if he had any say in it.

Before he could think about it, he was standing between the two of them, facing Cullen, staring him down. “I know you two would love to catch up, but I think it's about time we left.” He said with obviously false politeness, throwing a cheeky grin over his shoulder. The trepidation on Evander's face was quickly getting hidden beneath a growing, heavy blush. Alistair's stomach turned again, but this time in a way that also left a flutter in his chest.

“I...” Cullen coughed, suddenly seeming to be embarrassed, as he began to notice that all eyes on the hall were on them. “I just wanted to say that... that I'm glad that I was so wrong. And that... I'm sorry, Evan... er, I mean, Warden.”

Some of the tightness drained from Evander and miraculously a small, simple smile curved his lips. “It's alright, you were hurt.”

“That doesn't make it okay that I took it out on you. I'll never be able to apologize to you properly. I'm sorry.” His speech was quiet, but adamant. Then he did something that Alistair hadn't been expecting - he put his hand out to Alistair. “I heard you're the one looking after him now. I'd like to thank you. He used to be under my protection after all. It's good to he's still got someone keeping him safe.”

“I'm completely capable of looking after myself!” Evander huffed indignantly.

Alistair smiled at that, still looking down at Cullen's hand for a moment. “He's right. But we look after each other actually. We're both Grey Wardens, after all. We're equals.”

He seemed struck by that for a moment, before a grin spread across his face, his eyes taking on a sparkle of joy. “Good.” He said, hand still out.

Alistair looked over his shoulder again, catching a quick chuckle and a nod from Evander. He clasped Cullen's wrist, allowing him to do the same to him, a warrior's handshake. Then he turned and walked together with Evander out of the Tower.

~*~*~  
  
Somehow they wound up the the same room, due to everyone needing to double up. Not that Alistair wouldn't have snuck in to hold him that night anyway, but it gave a convenient excuse against gossip between their other companions.  Not that that stopped Zevran from wolf-whistling and making a lewd comment or two at them while Leliana giggled profusely when they split from the group clustered at the bar downstairs. Another one of those things he made himself steadfastly ignore.

Until about ten minutes into their holding one another when Evander kissed him.

They had been sprawled on the like usual, out of their armor, twined together at the legs, stomachs and arms occasionally brushing and Alistair had closed his eyes in contentment. Then he had felt a soft press against his lips. His eyes snapped open, but Evander had already pushed closer, melding his mouth over Alistair's again, making him go cross-eyed. Alistair felt himself melt a bit and moan as he felt a hand slide up the front of his shirt. Then he heard Wynne's words play over in his mind for the second time that night: _'Think about who you are.'_ and he hurriedly pulled away.

Evander was flushed and panting and as he shifted back his obvious interest rubbed against Alistair's thigh. That made Alistair's breath catch in his throat and left him momentarily speechless.

A glowing blush of a embarrassment began to creep over Evander's cheeks as the seconds trickled by and then he began to move away. Alistair grabbed the front of his shirt, to stall him, blurting out what he needed to stay. “I'm not _him_!”

Evander stilled and there were seconds of silence again. “I know.” He said, words hushed. “I want _you_ , Alistair. I've been holding myself back from saying anything, but after today, I thought... but if I read that wrong... I mean, if you didn't mean... after the way you looked at me when we were at the Tower... but if you don't want me too, that's okay.” He ducked his head, chin pressing into his chest, not looking at Alistair at all.

That was... exactly everything he had ever wanted wrapped in a bow. His heart was doing back-flips and his head was spinning when he reached to tilt his head up and kiss him soundly. Of course it wound up a bit sloppy and not very well done, because Alistair wasn't used to such things, but if the sound Evender made in his throat was any indication, he was getting points for enthusiasm, at least. Then he felt the hand begin to make it's way under his shirt again and he grabbed the arm it was attached to, pushing it away, before leaning back to pant out. “Wait. I've never... I'm not ready for more. I... can we just kiss? And cuddle. For now. I'd just like some... um... time to adjust to the idea of this, I think. Whatever this is.”

The look of surprise on Evander's face isn't what he was expecting from his babbling like that, but the quick laugh that follows is. But when the smile of elation he gives shows instantaneously that it's a laugh _with_ Alistair, not _at_ him, and he can't help but return it. “Of course.”

And as Evander burrows closer, their warmth mingling into their intermittent, tender kisses, slender mage-like fingers slipping into his hair, all Alistair can think is that he can't remember ever being happier.

 _Mage-like fingers._ Because Evander is a mage. And Alistair was a nearly a Templar. Which... are what Evander is afraid of. It's a sudden unwelcome thought pinging in the back of Alistair's brain and he can't seem to make it go away. Because he can't just have a moment of happiness go not ruined, can he? “Evander? Are you... afraid of me?”

The groggy confused blink that earns him shows that Evander had been closing in on sleep and it almost makes Alistair feel bad, what with the small amount of sleep either of them get nowadays. “What? Why would I be?”

Alistair sighs, giving in to his brain's idiot demands. “Because I was almost a Templar.”

“So?” Again all he gets is a furrowed brow and slight frown.

“Well, you're afraid of Templars.” Alistair shrugs. “That's understandable though, I suppose. I'm afraid of some much less intimidating things, like herds of nugs. Their feet freak me out.”

At that, Evander snorts out a dubious giggle. “Do what? Nugs? Really?” Then he pauses, tilting his head, eyes narrowing. “And who says I'm afraid of Templars?”

Well... _shit._ Could he really be wrong? “It's in the way you act! Whenever you're around one you... wiggle and twitch.”

Evander looks abruptly wide awake and mortified. “That's not... I'm not... It's not _fear_.” Then the way he's all at once trying to bury his face into the front of the fabric of Alistair's shirt to hide is almost enough to distract Alistair from the next hissed out words. “It's those Maker cursed _uniforms_! They're so... so...” And then he feels that interest suddenly back full-force against his hip.

And, oh. _Oh._ He thinks back to the time Evander had brought up Alistair's lack of Templar plate in what had seemed innocent conversation. At the time he had seemed truly put out at the fact that he didn't have any. Alistair had never been able to reason out why. Until now. Now he couldn't stop picturing Evander as a very naughty mage who needed to find the Maker, preferably while on his knees. Damn. Hadn't he just said that he wanted to wait? He was a fool. He swallowed audibly. “Oh. That's... Yes, alright. I think I can... find a set, maybe. If you'd like that.”

Evander peeked up from Alistair's shirt-collar with a sultry smirk. “Yes.” The grin became mischievous as he raised to press a fleeting kiss to Alistair's neck. “If you promise to try to find a set, I'll promise to not tell anyone that you're afraid of Dwarven livestock.”

Alistair groaned, chuckling. “Deal.”

A yawn escaped Evander, as he snuggled in more comfortably against Alistair, eyes closing. “Good. In the morning we'll have a nice tavern breakfast delivered up here in our room. I heard this place has some nice sausage and cheese. I can vouch for the wine.” In less than five minutes Evander was asleep, snoring softly, wrapped in Alistair's arms.

Okay, Alistair took it back... _now_ he was the happiest he had ever been.


End file.
